Chemistry
by DramioneLurver
Summary: Horrified at being Head Girl alongside Malfoy, Hermione tried to relax with a bath. She probably would have regretted doing so, had she remembered it. Even without those memories, being Heads together was awful. Besides, did they really want to know? DHr
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The very nature of this site refutes the possibility that I owned Harry Potter. Why else would I revert to writing fanfic about the characters? Though I suppose it _would _be awfully fun to write fanfic even if I _was _JKR… explore all those other ideas, the various plot lines, the intricacies of a character's personalities, silly plot bunnies that couldn't be fit into the actual book…

But alas, I still don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I'm horribly cliché with this one, so you can't say you haven't been warned. Another AU, Harry got a lucky break sixth year, they're all headed to Hogwarts for their 7th year, Dumbledore's alive, Hermione Head Girl, and Draco's Head Boy. I know, I know. It's been done a million times, but I just had this idea and it wouldn't leave and it pestered me like no other! So, here it is. Originally a oneshot, this is now going to become a multichaptered story. Where I'm headed, nobody knows…

Any feelings you have after or while reading this, I'm nosy and would love to know! Spread the gossip and review if you feel so inclined!

* * *

Hermione Granger was so happy to be back at Hogwarts. Proudly adjusting her Head Girl badge, she looked over at Ginny Weasley, who was sitting next to Harry. The two of them were always smiling nowadays. Hermione knew it was from all the snogging sessions they sneaked into the day, though they had kept that from Ron.

Fortunately for everyone involved, said redhead was even more oblivious than normal lately, ever since Bill and Fleur's wedding – where he met Ellie, best friend of Fleur's younger sister. The couple had hit off right from the start, during wedding preparations, but the actual wedding day was the true beginning of their relationship. Hermione grinned at the memory of how red Ron had turned when he had asked Ellie to dance. Lucky for him, she was much more forward. To no one's surprise, they were found snogging in the garden before nightfall. Ron seemed to be going through withdrawal – going to school meant he had to leave Ellie, who had stayed with Gabrielle at Bill and Fleur's house until the couple had returned from the honeymoon. Even after their return, Bill and Fleur invited Gabrielle and Ellie to stay with them for the remainder of the summer. Ron was overjoyed to hear this news (After all, Bill and Fleur lived within walking distance of the Burrow).

Hermione had stayed out of such complicated relationships over the summer, sticking with her books and friends for companionship. She found out long ago that life was easier without those sorts of relationships.

"Aren't you sad, Hermione?" Ginny asked again.

"About what?" the bushy-haired girl absent-mindedly replied.

"This is your seventh year. Last one," Ginny explained.

Hermione had thought about this earlier. Yes, it made her sad. But the future looked so promising. Seventh year and beyond would be challenging, and Hermione loved a challenge.

"Yeah, I am. But it's going to be a long year," Hermione answered, smiling at the thought of how much she could possibly get accomplished in the coming months.

"So…" started Harry, trying to enter the conversation. "Who do you suppose the Head Boy is?"

"Don't know," replied Hermione curtly.

"Hopefully someone cute. Don't you have to share a common room with him?" commented Ginny.

Hermione blushed at the thought. "Yeah, I think so…"

Soon enough, Harry regretted bringing up the subject; it was the only thing Hermione and Ginny talked about the rest of the way to the castle. Deciding to simply ignore the girls and their chatter, he turned to Ron and they began a game of Exploding Snap. One game became two, which became four, which became eight, adequately entertaining the boys for the remainder of the train ride, or at least until Hermione and Ron left to fulfill their Head Girl and Prefect duties, respectively. At that point, Harry and Ginny didn't need anything other than each other to keep occupied.

When the train arrived, they all piled out of their compartment and fled to a carriage, eager to escape the sheets of rain pouring down on them. As the carriage came to a halt, the four of them climbed out and started making their way through the mass of people to the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling seemed so welcoming, so familiar. Ron gazed hungrily at the empty plates.

"Be patient, Ron!" Hermione teased.

"But I'm _hungry_," Ron whined.

As Harry and Ginny joined Hermione in laughing, the students continued to pour in, and the four were joined by familiar faces. However, the chatter and greetings, mixed with laughter and hugs, died down as Dumbledore stood.

The Sorting and Start of the Year Feast were practically the same as last year. Hermione surprised herself by finding her attention and gaze drifting. She knew what she was looking for – that little, shiny badge on the robes of some seventh year boy.

Mentally, she chided herself. She never would have guessed she was so curious about this. In fact, she was impatient for everyone to finish eating so she could find out. By the time people were finally exiting the Great Hall, she had out ruled the Head Boy from being in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, leaving either Hufflepuff or Slytherin. She shivered at the thought of having to share a common room with a Slytherin for all of her remaining year of Hogwarts.

Anticipation was seeping from her skin as she bade goodnight to the others and walked over to Professor McGonagall, who had signaled for the girl to come forward. Hermione's eyebrows met each other as a frown formed on her face.

'_Surely not…_' she tried to reassure herself, searching to give Draco Malfoy another reason for also stopping in front of McGonagall. When he spotted her, his mouth dropped open. Hermione's heart fell when she saw the flashing badge attached to the front of his robes.

"This way." McGonagall motioned for the two of them to follow her. They gave each other looks that clearly stated they would rather burn up and die but followed anyway, first making sure they had a firm grip on their wands. McGonagall led them up to the fifth floor, turning to a section neither of them had seen before, leading them both to wonder what it was used for. She stopped in front of a portrait of a cheery old fellow who seemed ecstatic to see live people.

"Ah." He smiled. "Fresh batch of Heads for me, eh, McGonagall?"

"Indeed," she replied, turning to said Heads. "This will be your quarters for the following school year. The password for now is Gillyweed." As the portrait swung open, McGonagall led them inside. They turned their anger away for a moment to stare at the room. In neutral shades of brown, the room was comforting and strangely felt like home. Relatively smaller than the House Common Rooms they were used to, it was still plenty spacious and impeccably decorated.

"I won't bother showing you everything – you'll have to figure things out by yourselves. After all, you're supposed to be the smartest of your year," Professor McGonagall remarked to the two silent, unmoving Heads. She waited a moment longer and then made towards the exit.

Suddenly Hermione noticed something. "Professor?"

McGonagall stopped, almost as if she expected this.

"I don't see any doors," Hermione continued, "You know, to our rooms."

"Ah, yes." McGonagall seemed bored. "Professor Dumbledore believes that the Head Boy and Head Girl should be examples to the rest of the school, and, therefore, get along. So, as it has been done since the year Dumbledore became Headmaster, the two of you will have to sleep in your Common Room for the first month of the year." She continued despite the protests from the two students. "When the month is over, doors for both of your bedrooms will appear. Until then, your things have been put in the bathroom to your left. I'll see you both tomorrow morning."

With that, she left, two fuming students still protesting loudly inside.

"I can't _believe_ this!" Hermione yelled.

"_You_?!?!" screamed Malfoy, "_I'm_ the one who has to spend the night in the same room as a _Mudblood_."

Hermione shot him a look of pure disgust. "Please, Malfoy," she spat, "Your vocabulary must have grown since second year."

At that Malfoy drew his wand, Hermione following suit. He shouted a curse at the same time Hermione did, but both were shocked that nothing happened. Nothing at all.

"I… I can't do magic!" Hermione cried desperately.

Malfoy fell into an armchair nearby, completely collapsing, and balled his fists over his knees, angry that he couldn't do anything about the situation.

Hermione suddenly felt overwhelmed and extremely tired. She wanted to sleep. But first, she needed to bathe.

"I'm going to bathe," she announced, pushing the no-magic incident aside for now. He simply raised his eyebrows, so she continued, "I'll be out after a while. Don't you dare interrupt me."

"Ha. As if," Malfoy sneered. Hermione simply glared back at him before storming into the bathroom and slamming the door.

* * *

Still fuming as she entered the room, when Hermione turned around, all of her anger seeped from her body to make room for the overwhelming shock. She stood motionless in awe. The Head Boy's and Head Girl's bathroom was even bigger than the Prefects' bathroom. As in the bathroom she had grown accustom do during fifth and sixth year, the center of the room was simply a huge bathtub, the size of a swimming pool. There seemed to be a hundred faucets littered along one side of the pool, the wall beside them looking like the side of a mountain had been magically transported into the room, or almost as if the room was built around the mountain. Large boulders and rocks were crowned with wild flowers of every color, shrubs, and small trees. A path from the ceiling along the dark stone twirled down the mountain, clear of all plant life as if making way for water to flow into the grand tub like a real life waterfall.

Fascinated, Hermione walked down the row of handles, twisting them all to the right as she went. Water started rushing out of the first ones, filling the air with a loud, but gentle roar. Different colors spewed from each spout, combining in a twirl of beautiful swirls rather than mixing. From the other faucets drifted pleasant scents and perfumed, colored gases. Some released bubbles into the tub of water, others, bubbles into the air. When the row ended, Hermione found herself staring into a gigantic mirror, taller than herself and at least four meters wide. To the left of the mirror, rested a cupboard carved of white marble. Its shelves were stacked with scented shampoos, soaps, lotions, and sprays, alongside mouse, hairspray, gel, anti-frizz, and an arrangement of other hair and body products.

After selecting an assortment of vanilla-scented items, Hermione walked back to the tub, which was almost full. As she set down the bottles, she stood and noticed another handle on the wall. Her curiosity overwhelming her, she wondered over and gave the metal a twist. Suddenly, the room was interrupted by a gentle roar. Spinning around, Hermione gasped at the sight of the pure water drifting down the mountainside.

Completely letting go all of the bad memories of the days' events, Hermione swiftly stripped off her dirty clothes and slipped into the warm water. It was heaven.

Twenty minutes later, however, when Hermione was still relaxing in the soothing water, she heard shouts of protest and banging on the bathroom door over the noise of the waterfall.

"Hurry up you Mudblood! Don't bother trying to get all the mud off – it won't come! So let me in! I want to bathe too you know! Open this door you worthles-"

Hermione had heard enough. Sinking under the water where Malfoy's voice was muffled, she decided that perhaps it was time for her to retire to bed anyway. Rising with a sigh, she picked up the vanilla-scented shampoo and poured some into her hand. _It smells so good_, she thought to herself, breathing it in. Lifting her hands to her scalp, she started to massage the shampoo into her damp, curly hair. Making sure she took her sweet time, she continued to cleanse her body with the sweet vanilla.

Though the shouting quieted, Hermione knew Malfoy was probably still fuming. Smiling, she rinsed the last of the soap off and started looking around for towels. After only a quick second, she saw them; there in a pile was a neat pile of pure white, fluffy towels at eh other end of the large tub. Climbing out, she wrapped one of the towels around her body before walking back to the cabinet that held all the different accessories.

After spreading vanilla-scented lotion over every inch of her skin, she replaced what she had taken on the shelf. Her hand paused, hovering in midair as a strange shaped bottle caught her eye. It seemed to be made of clear crystal, with a bubbly liquid resting inside and a spray nozzle sitting on top. Curious, she picked it up and searched for a label or marking, only to be disappointed. In her hand the crystal felt cool, its smooth body fitting snugly inside her palm. Up close, it seemed to shine with a slight pink tinge.

Hermione knew that it was foolish to use an unknown item, especially when one was inside a magical castle and a world filled with all sorts of charms and potions.

Yet something nudged her to use it anyway.

Though it went against all her common sense, she found herself spraying it up and down her body. The air was filled with an attractive aroma that tempted her to close her eyes and inhale the scent, letting it drift over her body lusciously.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes snapped open again, and she found herself searching through the cupboard again. For some reason, she felt like going all out, and found herself experimenting with hair and body products. Eventually, her hair was curled and shiny, flowing down her back like hair only did in movies and romance novels.

Her body steered her across the room to her trunk, where her hands pulled out some black lingerie and a midnight blue nightgown she didn't know she owned. She returned to the mirror and slipped on her bra and panties. She slid one arm into the silky material of the nightgown, which was fashioned more like the style of a robe than a dress, adoring the feel of the fabric on her skin. The top was left in a V-shape, with the long, flowing sleeves ending three quarters down her arms. The tie was almost the same color as the nightgown itself, but was made of a more rope-like material.

After a few more moment in front of the mirror, she found herself rummaging through the bathroom supplies again. She had stumbled across some make up, and for some odd reason, had felt inclined to apply some. Though she hardly knew how to do so, her face was soon covered in a light layer of cover-up, cheeks accentuated with a mauve colored blush. Her eyes were outlined in a dark, dusty grey that blended perfectly with the dark blue eye shadow and silvery dust before her long, blackened lashes. She layered her lips with a soft pink, and added a smooth lip gloss.

When she saw her reflection in the mirror, she barely recognized it. She felt so different in these extremely feminine clothes, her hair and makeup done like she had something special planned. She didn't know why she had felt compelled to dress up like this. It was almost as if she was in some sort of dream state, with someone else controlling the motions of her body.

Thoughts still jumbled and tumbling through her mind, she walked out of the bathroom back into the common room.

* * *

Draco was about start complaining again when he turned his head. What he saw shocked him, even more than out that Granger was Head Girl. He shook his head, thinking he must be having some crazy dream. But no. Here was Hermione Granger, yet, she was… different. Her hair was shiny and smooth, in controlled curls. She had put on makeup that enhanced her natural beauty. Her nightgown was actually flattering to her figure, hugging every curve. And more than anything, there was this overpowering scent she carried with her. It was so… tempting. Just like her. Draco found himself wanting to hold her – wait! No way! This was Gran – wow, she was beautiful. What was that wondrous smell? It was so intoxica – WHAT IS WRONG WITH YO – oh Merlin, she was gorgeous. And coming closer…

Hermione was confused. Strange thoughts and feelings that she was sure were not her own kept sweeping over her, too powerful to ignore. As she approached the only other occupant in the room, she couldn't help but notice the way the Slytherin's blonde hair fell atop his shoulders. His cloudy grey eyes were staring right at her. Strangely, under his piercing gaze she felt… excited. These strange emotions within her controlled her actions, each footstep she took closer. Something seemed to be controlling his movements as well, guiding them both to sit next to each other on the couch, the entire time keeping their gazes locked.

The power that had been raising within her curled her lips into a satisfied smile, the feminine it groomed growing proud of the control she held over his own emotions. Just by entering the room, she made him venture against his wishes, and want her.

When he sank into the cushions next to her, he let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. His breaths came in quick recession as they continued to stare into each other's eyes, unable to break the connection that held them captive. Hermione found herself studying his eyes, how they curled in clouds of grey, how something seemed to dance within them, before letting her gaze explore the dips and curves of his face like she had never explored another person before. Almost as if she was a blind person intimately getting to know his face until she could see it through touch alone. Everything about him seemed so… appealing. She liked it.

Suddenly, he was overwhelmed with the desire to touch her, kiss her. From the look in her eyes, he knew she wanted it too. Slowly, he leaned in closer, until his breath mingled with hers as their lips rested mere centimeters apart. He paused, frozen in midair, before reaching out and sliding his arm around her slender waist and pulling her body just as close. He searched her eyes once more before she closed them, waiting. Finally, their lips met.

It was unlike what either of them expected. So gentle and soft, but flirting with the line of temptation and lust. Draco couldn't resist; his arms found their way to her back, his other arm swiftly joining the first, pressing her body full against his own. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck, fingers pulling at the blonde hair, never protesting as he pushed her body harder, arching her back. Still, he wanted, needed more. She felt his tongue brush her lips, begging for permission to enter. Immediately, she consented, parting her mouth as his tongue explored its depth. Her own came out to meet his, and a fierce battle erupted, quickly growing frantic, as her hands pulling at his hair, his own moving in repetition from her face to her hair to her back to her waist, never dwelling for longer than a second, always grasping for as much as he could find.

Their kiss was intoxicating, but it still didn't feed their newfound hunger. As their hands never stopped moving, Draco dragged his lips away from her mouth and kissed a line of fire across her jaw and up her cheeks towards her ear. He bit lightly on her earlobe and nuzzled the side of her face with his own as he continued to apply kisses to her hairline.

"Hermione," her first name escaped his mouth in a reverent and pleading tone, his breath heating her skin and tickling her ear in the most pleasant way. Using her first name seemed natural to both of them. His wild, darkened eyes found hers as his mouth moved back across her cheeks, pleased to discover her brown swirls also overflowing with eager excitement and desperate hunger. His hands slipped beneath her robes and held her close to him as he lowered her to the couch. His fingers began exploring the skin under her robes, running up and down her back and around the curve of her body. Her own hands reached for the front of his robes, delving beneath them to touch the hardened skin of his chest as he worshiped her neck with his mouth. She moaned at the feeling of his lips and tongue against the skin of her neck, shoulder, collarbone, slowly, tantalizingly slow, moving lower and lower along her body. She wrapped her arms around his chest and pulled him snug against her body as she moaned again, speaking this time, letting the air form into words as she responded to his pleading. "Oh, Draco."

Suddenly, they heard the portrait swing open. Draco's head shot up immediately, throwing him off balance and causing him to fall off of the couch and his place atop Hermione, ripping their arms away from each other as he landed on the floor with a resounding thud. Both were dazed and breathing heavily as a figure emerged from the portrait hole.

* * *

The strange feelings suddenly disappeared, leaving each overcome with worry that it was their friends coming into the room. Sighs of relief seeped from both of their mouths as the Headmaster revealed himself. Then they reddened simultaneously, each partly angry, partly embarrassed, and extremely confused. As Draco scrambled over to the other couch, Hermione sat up and frantically attempted to fix the smeared make-up and adjust her robes. While the Headmaster straightened himself to his full height after crouching to get through the small entrance, Hermione saw, in the corner of her eye, Draco desperately striving to clean his face from her lipstick. Quickly she diverted her gaze, resting it on the carpet beneath her feet.

Professor Dumbledore, who had always had an uncanny tendency to break awkward silences, spoke first. In his calm, mystical voice he greeted, "Good evening Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger." He paused, probably expecting them to greet him in return. Neither did, both still consumed in their thoughts, though Dumbledore continued to speak as if everything was normal.

"I see Minerva has showed you to your Common Room for this year, though she did not go into much detail no doubt. She never does, says the smartest of the year should be able to figure these sorts of things out by themselves. I completely share her opinion. However, I do feel there are a few things you need to know right from the start. First of all, as you may have guessed, you both still represent and belong to your respective Houses. However, since you are required to watch over other students, you are not required to eat meals at the normal time nor at your normal House tables." He gestured to the right wall, where Draco and Hermione saw a tapestry depicting the Hogwarts' crest.

"Behind that tapestry is a rather amazing room. The contents themselves are simply two chairs and a low counter to dine at. The magical part is that when one walks through the doorway, the food or drink they desire has already appeared at the counter. It works 24/7, so you may eat at a time that fits into your busy schedule. Ah, yes. Now for your schedules. Since the Head Boy and Head Girl need to patrol the corridors together at multiple times of the day, it is imperative that you have the same classes. As expected, you have both managed to get grades that allow continuation into all the classes you were originally planning on taking."

Dumbledore paused and walked over to the blank billboard to the left of the portrait hole. A weeklong schedule appeared when he tapped his wand against the hard surface. To both of the students' dismay, there were very few blank slots that allowed them free time. The Headmaster continued. "This is both of your schedules for this first week of school. Every Sunday morning, the patrolling hours for the week will change at random, so it will be necessary to check upon it frequently. Now, I think that is it for now. But remember, this room has many other magical properties, not all which are known, even to me. Be careful and goodnight." He turned around and started heading out of the Common Room when he paused, looking over his shoulder, "Oh, and Miss Granger."

Hermione nervously raised her gaze to meet the Headmaster's for the first time since he had entered the room. She noticed that his eyes were twinkling, almost as if… as if… 'As if he _knew_,' Hermione groaned inside at the thought. 'Why does he always have to know?' She kept her gaze locked with the Headmaster's, but started shuffling her feet nervously. He continued, as if he didn't notice the tension in the air.

"I suggest you wait to experiment with the magical contents of that wondrous bathroom until later."

With this, Dumbledore exited through the portrait hole, leaving a furiously blushing Hermione and extremely baffled Malfoy alone once again.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here I am, continuing this story! You asked for it, the plotbunnies attacked me with it, and here it comes! You can expect a whole bunch of random, crazy, seventh year fun that comes from an author going insane! Just to warn you all, I have very little plans for this at the moment, so future events will be a mystery even to me! Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy it, and please tell me whether you do or not!

As morning light crept inside the dark room, Hermione shifted her position. For some reason, her head was throbbing. She didn't want to get up; her bed was warm and comfortable. Mrs. Weasley must have given her an extra blanket during the night, because it seemed even warmer than usual.

But her head really needed to be taken care of. Mrs. Weasley could probably fix it. Well, as soon as Hermione got her lazy bum out of bed. Her groggy mind groaned at the light that welcomed her eyes. Hermione didn't care why it was lighter than usual; she just didn't like it, needed to stop the pain in her head, and wanted to stay in her warm, comfy bed all at the same time. As she turned around to face the window, she became aware of an arm that evidently had been slung across her back as it tightened its hold.

Needless to say, she flipped. There was another person in her bed! What was that?! Immediately twisting herself free, she quickly found herself on the floor. She must have been on a couch. Her eyes shot open as she picked herself up.

Where was she? The strange room was exquisitely beautiful, but her mind was too busy to admire it. As her eyes searched the vicinity, she discovered that it was unlike any room she had ever seen before. It was definitely magical, and well decorated with tasteful, expensive-looking furniture. Obviously she wasn't in Ron's house. Where she was rather sure she had been when retiring the night before. And they weren't due to leave for Hogwarts until… wait, what day was it? Certainly they hadn't gone to Hogwarts and Hermione had forgotten about it. She was Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake. The Hermione Granger.

But what had she done last night? Where was she? Why did her head hurt? And who… Hermione's eyes darted to the couch she had just fallen off of, the couch where she had been laying down with another person's arm around her.

The shock of seeing Draco Malfoy was too much.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The loud crack following a dull thump was the final straw in waking up the sleeping Draco. With a groan of frustration and a mumbled curse about bloody house elves who forgot to do their jobs and close the curtains after washing the windows, he reluctantly tossed his blanket aside and started to sit up, rubbing his eyes to prepare them to open properly as he did so. He felt funny, like he had slept in his clothes for some random reason, and cold, despite the fact he had a blanket, and discombobulated. His head was screaming at him for some unknown crime and his half-asleep mind whispered that all was not right. Sure enough, his eyes confirmed this not a second later.

First of all, the blanket he had tossed aside was a golden color and seemed to be made out of cotton – not his customary white fur that topped his bed at home. Secondly, he had slept on the cocoa couch of a light tan room. No room in the mansion used brown as a color scheme. None. Rich blues and greens and purples and reds, but never neutral, boring brown. Thirdly, he was in fact dressed in his clothes. A fact that very much pleased him when he noted the girl collapsed on the floor beside the couch that had served as his bed – their bed? – last night. Especially when he recognized said girl to be none other than the horrid Mudblood Granger.

What in the name of Merlin's pinstriped boxers happened? Why was he in this room? Where was he? Did someone kidnap him? Him and the Mudblood? Not likely that any person would take the both of them. What was she doing here anyway? Where ever here was. And why the sodding hell had they been sleeping on the same couch? Ewww! He had Mudblood germs on him! He would have to scrub for hours to get properly clean again. Oh, Merlin! He hadn't… they hadn't… wait, clothes. Check. Thank evilness. And she was wearing clothes too. Or, a nightgown of some sort. Oh, Slytherin all Powerful, she hadn't tried to seduce him, had she? I mean, this was prissy, goody-two shoes Gryffindor Granger. It's not like she would want to. Unless she was even more disturbed that he thought. Seriously, Muggles had issues. It was just, well, the very idea! Revolting!

Why couldn't he remember what had happened last night? His head hurt like an Unforgiveable and everything seemed foggy. Was he drunk? Had they both gotten so extremely sloshed that they had not realized who the other was and tried to do something? Maybe they had been, but then passed out because they had so much alcohol. The brown certainly seemed like Granger's boring style! Unholy Slytherin! He wasn't in a Muggle house, was he?! But then, where were the incriminating bottles? The smell of liquor on his breath? And he didn't remember drinking… Nor did it seem to be a likely habit of the perfect, precise, never-break-the-rules-unless-Potty-is-doing-it Granger.

And since he obviously wasn't going to get answers by sitting there, he decided to wake up said mess of hair.

"Granger!" he shouted, immediately regretting it when his head protested. He swung his legs off the couch and prodded her still body with his shoe protected foot. When she didn't get up, he prodded her again, and again, and again, increasingly more forcefully. Frowning at her lack of reaction, he rolled her onto her back. With his foot, of course. He wasn't about to touch the vile creature. His eyebrows rose in the effort to meet his hairline as her face revealed make-up, smudged, slept-with-on make-up, but make-up none the less.

Something seriously strange had happened the night before. If only he could remember what it was!

Then his eyes caught another unusual change on Granger's face – some reddish taint of her skin by her hairline. Blood? Bending down to investigate further, he remembered the noise that had woken him up. Granger must have hit her head on the small table and knocked herself out. Rationalizing that he most likely had held the Mudblood for a good portion of the night and that touching her further couldn't hurt much worse, he brushed his fingers underneath her hair. Sure enough, there was a bump.

Figures. Now he had to somehow find help for the unconscious Mudblood with whom he had apparently spent a night he couldn't remember in a strange place where only Voldemort knows if other people, much less medical help that could take the Gryffindor off his hands, ventured! And furthermore, his fingers were now stained with the girl's impure blood!

Straightening once again, he took a better look at his surroundings. If the huge bulletin board with a gigantic, stuffed schedule hadn't suggested the possibility, the tapestry on the wall behind him affirmed what his brain had whispered earlier: they were at Hogwarts. However, the answer to where did nothing to calm him. As a matter of fact, it only raised even more questions. What day was it? Had he completely forgotten an entire day's worth of memories? Or had it been longer? It could have been February for all he knew. And the idea that he didn't remember any period of time was extremely unnerving.

Other questions burned on his tongue as they sprinted through his head. The only reason he could come up with that would explain the presence of Granger was that she was the Head Girl. But why would they sleep on the couch in their Common Room? Additionally, Draco noted that he had never seen the girl wear make-up (other than that one mind-boggling time at the Yule Ball fourth year which he was better off to push as far back into his mind as possible), or be without a book.

Suddenly, a noise coming from the other side of the room startled him. Not knowing who to expect, Draco both sighed in relief and tensed with the mixture of his emotions at the appearance of the Headmaster.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore greeted, irremovable smile on his face and in his eyes. "How are things going this fine day?"

"What's going on?" Draco spurted out, desperation lacing his demanding tone. "What day is it? What happened to me? Why can't I remember how I got here?"

"Ah, I thought this might be a problem," Dumbledore replied, managing to completely not-answer any of Draco's questions. "What ever has happened to Miss Granger there?"

"I have no idea!" Draco announced. "I don't know anything at the moment!"

"Well, I think it would be best if we calmed down for a moment." Rising Hermione into the air with magic, the Headmaster immediately noticed the injury on her head. "And perhaps have Poppy take a look on our Head Girl here."

The Headmaster directed his gaze at Draco as he spoke next. "While I take Miss Granger over to the Hospital Wing, I would suggest you read the note I left on the coffee table. That may clear up a few things."

Then, with a floating, unconscious Hermione in front of him, Dumbledore exited the Common Room, leaving a bewildered Draco staring in confusion towards the portrait hole. After a few silent moments, Draco turned to the table that Granger had apparently knocked herself out on and spied the envelope labeled with their names. Grabbing the paper and tearing it open as he sat down again, he hoped that it might clear a few things up.

_Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger,_

_If the two of you awoke this morning with your memory of the previous evening in tact, this letter is of absolutely no importance at all. You may rip it to shreds, burn them in afire, and toss the ashes off the Astronomy Tower if you feel so inclined. However, if, by chance, you find your memory lacking, it may yet be of some use and the time I spent writing this information may have actually been for a purpose. Continuing on, if you are in fact reading this letter with the purpose of finding out what happened yesterday, and since I have no way of knowing exactly how far back your lapse in memory extends, I shall hope that it goes no farther than the events starting with your arrival here at Hogwarts, since I very well cannot inform you of the going ons of your time at your respective houses before climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express._

_Although I was informed that Mr. Malfoy failed to show up the Heads' meeting with the Prefects for this year (and though you may not recall this action – or lack therefore in this particular case – I can assure you that this will be discussed later between you and either myself or your Head of House), there were no other abnormalities that I was informed of that took place while on the train. I am sure that an inquisition of your normal companions would be the most likely manner to go about learning of any events that did surpass in this time period. After arriving on the grounds, the Welcome Back Feast took place as normal, with another charming piece from our dear Sorting Hat (Miss Granger, if you wish for a copy of the lyrics of this year's tune, I'm sure that could be arranged). After the completion of the meal, both of you were led by Professor McGonagall to your Head common room, where you now find yourselves. The portrait outside is that of Francis Thokering, quite an amusing fellow that I trust you both will grow to enjoy. The current password is Gillyweed. Since you are responsible for changing the passwords for the entrances of the Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Gryffindor common rooms, you also have the privilege of changing your own password, which I strongly suggest to do every good once in a while._

_Now, onto this magnificent room and your quarters for the remainder of the year. Traditionally, the Head Boy and Head Girl will live in the exact same living spaces for the first thirty days of their stay at Hogwarts. In one month's time, doors will appear on either side of the room that will lead to your bedrooms. For the time being, it is suggested that the two of you sleep on the two couches. Each pulls out into a bed (if you need an explanation, I'm sure Miss Granger could assist you, Mr. Malfoy. It is quite an amusing and useful Muggle idea), so you should be perfectly comfortable. The one door that is currently present leads to the bathroom, which I am sure you will find to your liking. Additionally, I advice against experimenting with the many objects found within, as many of the concoctions have unknown magical qualities. Behind the tapestry adorned with the Hogwarts crest lays a relatively small room that will supply any food or drink you desire at any time of any day. Due to your extremely busy schedule, it was discovered long ago that allowing the Heads to eat outside the normal meal times allows them to better handle their responsibilities._

_The schedule mentioned is written upon the billboard to the left of the portrait hole. The times of your patrol each week change at random every Sunday morning, so the two of you will need to refer to it often to insure that you are patrolling the correct areas at the correct times. As the Heads of this year, it is up to the two of you to agree upon a time and day to conduct meetings with the Prefects to discuss matters of greatest importance, distribute schedules, and assign passwords to the entrances of those Houses that required it. Discussing this with the House portraits and Prefects is recommended._

_If there is anything else I ought to inform you of, it has slipped my mind. Any further questions you may have may be asked of the Heads of your Houses or myself, although not all of them may have an answer. Some things must be found out by one's self._

_The best of wishes this upcoming school year,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_PS It almost slipped my mind to inform you of one other important detail: it would be futile to attempt to use magic within the boundaries of your common room due to the wards that have placed around the area. You two are not the first set of Heads that sprouted from rival Houses._

Despite the fact that they were merely written words, Draco could see the Headmaster's eyes twinkle at that last statement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Muffled voices twisted their way into her ears before her brain could get her eyes to open. When they did, her vision remained slightly blurred for a few moments.

"Ah, good morning, Miss Granger," she heard one of the voices say. It almost sounded like Professor Dumbledore. Turning her head in the direction of the voice, she saw that is was the Headmaster.

"Good morning, Headmaster," she managed, mind whirling to connect the scattered dots in her head. When the lines started to create a shape, she almost didn't believe what her mind was telling her.

"Are we at Hogwarts?" she shouted, expecting once again to find herself at the Burrow. As she looked around, she knew she was right; she was in the Hospital Wing with a grinning Professor Dumbledore and worried Madam Pomfrey.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out before her brain could even finish informing her that yelling at the esteemed adults was rude. "but how did I get here? What day is it? What happened?"

"Fortunately," Dumbledore began, smile plastered on his face. "You only lost a single day. You know, at times I've considered recording the mysteries of the extra rooms lying around the castle, but it would be a rather fruitless task. Don't you agree, Miss Granger?"

At Hermione's blank stare, Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't ever asked her a question in the first place. "Yes, well, I left a note for you and Mr. Malfoy on the coffee table, but from both of your actions this morning, I'll assume some unforeseen event occurred that distracted you from discovering it."

With a cringe, Hermione recalled her reaction that morning when she had woken up in Draco Malfoy's arms. Although she wasn't exactly proud of fainting (and managing to knock herself out, it seemed, if the ache and bump on her head were to be trusted), she really couldn't blame herself. Still she apologized.

"Not to worry, not to worry, m'dear," the Headmaster assured her. "As its author, I can certainly provide a summary of its contents. If I couldn't, well, a man who cannot remember his own thoughts shouldn't very well be responsible for such a task, much less an entire school. Now, where was I?"

When he didn't continue, Madam Pomfrey answered the question Hermione had thought to be rhetorical. "Ah, yes, the note. Thank you, Poppy."

"Of course," she replied. "I best be off to check on Marianna, poor girl. Call if you need me, Albus."

As the nurse parted, Dumbledore finally told Hermione the information he had written in the note left in the Heads common room. Of course, he left out the bit about Mr. Malfoy playing hooky on the train and gave her a scroll of parchment of the Sorting Hat's latest work rather than asking her if she wanted it first, which she took gratefully. After more thoroughly explaining the board and their schedules, he asked Hermione if she had any further questions.

"Actually, I do. I know you said that it is not required of us to eat meals with our Houses, is it allowed? I mean, the room you provided us with sounds magnificent, but I was just wondering, if…" Hermione trailed off, looking nervous as she spoke to the venerable wizard.

"If you could eat with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore finished for her, a standard twinkle present in his eyes.

"Well, yes," she responded, eyes studying her folded hands.

"You may do so whenever you wish," he asserted with a grin. "Provided you fit in the time to do so, of course."

"May I leave for breakfast then, Professor?"

"That is a question for our Poppy." He turned and called for the nurse, who came along a few seconds later. After reviewing with Hermione the dangers of experimenting with unknown substances, advice that Hermione drank in despite – or perhaps because of – the fact that she couldn't remember doing so the previous day, and giving the girl a potion to keep down the swelling, Madam Pomfrey let her leave for the Great Hall.

However, when Hermione stood up, she noticed just exactly what her attire was.

"Is this even mine?" she exclaimed, accidentally speaking her thoughts aloud.

"Dear me, I suppose a suitable robe to cover your nightgown would be appreciated, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore offered, Madam Pomfrey rushing to retrieve an extra Hogwarts robe from her office. Extremely too large and rather wrinkled, Hermione slipped into the garment while thanking them both and promising to return later in the day.

With that, a late Hermione Granger fled from the Hospital Wing, foreign robe the size of Goyle flapping about and every so often revealing the midnight blue material underneath.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"So you don't remember yesterday at all?" Harry asked in amazement. Next to him, Ron's egg-and-sausage-filled mouth gaped open.

"Would I ask if I did?" Hermione replied, scanning the room for familiar faces with a year's worth of unknown growth and categorizing the first years that had joined their House.

"That's beyond weird though. That's just plain…" Ron trailed off, not being able to find a word that conveyed all that he meant.

"Bizarre?" Harry completed, at which Ron started nodding. "I guess the hours in public aren't so bad, I mean, we can tell you whatever you need to know." Hermione mentally rolled her eyes at this. "But the thoughts you had, the time alone, Merlin, the time with Malfoy! I mean, who knows how he acted."

"He was probably a total prick," Ron remarked in between sips of pumpkin juice.

Hermione agreed with the boys, but since some of things Dumbledore had said implied that Malfoy had been affected as well, she doubted they would ever find out.

"Speaking of, where is Malfoy?" Harry asked, not seeing the Head Boy at the Slytherin table. Hermione, remembering the room Dumbledore had told her about, knew that he probably wouldn't find him.

"He's most likely eating at the Heads' room," she told them, forgetting that she had yet to describe them the room the Headmaster had detailed to her earlier that morning.

"You have a kitchen in your common room?!" Ron nearly shouted, excitement and a touch of envy sparking within his eyes.

"Not exactly. I haven't seen it, of course, but Dumbledore said it was this magical room that would come up with the food we wanted when ever we wanted to eat. It's supposed to help facilitate the Heads manage their busy schedules."

While Ron daydreamt and vocally raved about such a magnificent place, Harry turned confused. "What do you mean you haven't seen it? Weren't you at your common room when Dumbledore was telling you all this?"

"No, I was in the Hospital Wing," Hermione corrected, not expecting yet not quite surprised when the two boys jumped to the conclusion that Malfoy had sent her to the nurse with bodily damage. She quickly called for them to relax (which only further stoked Ron's fiery temper that had burned away all thoughts about magical 24/7 buffets), and told them how she had managed to knock herself out in the morning. Of course, she left out the part about her fainting and made it seem like she had rolled off a couch and hit a table then. Once again, embarrassment pulled at her as she thought about what had actually happened.

"Fine," Ron replied, ripping off pieces of bacon and toast alternatively with his teeth in an effort to restrain the wild emotions within. Harry accepted her explanation, and was about to ask her further questions when Professor McGonagall came along to give them their schedules.

"Of course, yours, Miss Granger, is already written on your schedule in your common room. Although I heard about your… mishap this morning, I trust that the Headmaster has already told you everything that you need to know."

Hermione felt shame wash over her when disappointment flashed through her professor's eyes, but answered affirmatively nonetheless. Only half listening to Harry and Ron discussing their schedules for the year, the Head Girl racked her brain for the missing thought that had struck her mind as McGonagall had walked away.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, immediately starting to get out from her seat. Harry and Ron turned to her, asking what was wrong. "I don't know where the Head room is!"

Waiting until the transfiguration teacher had finished discussing the benefits of taking the NEWT Herbology course with Vicky Frobisher, Hermione berating herself for forgetting such an obvious point.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked, turning to her.

"Sorry, Professor, but I forgot that I don't know where the Heads common room is," Hermione admitted, blushing slightly.

"Of course," the Transfiguration teacher replied, surprised that the Headmaster had not already informed the girl of this rather important and necessary information. "I would take you there myself, but – as you can see – I have to speak with all of the students concerning their schedules at the moment."

"Just directions would be wonderful," Hermione assured her, smiling slightly in her embarrassment.

Taking very careful mental notes of the path McGonagall described, Hermione merely nodded as the woman spoke.

"And the name of the man in the portrait is Francis Thokering, was it?" she checked, needing to make sure.

McGonagall nodded and was about to verbally confirm this when a third year Gryffindor called her name. As she turned to listen to the boy's question, Hermione immediately thanked her and rushed off to bid goodbye to Harry and Ron so she could reach her room as quickly as possible. After all, she had to dress in proper clothing, retrieve her school supplies, review her schedule, and then head to class on time.

"What's the hurry?" Harry asked as she took a final swig of pumpkin juice.

"I probably have a class first period," Hermione explained. "I can't be late."

"Eer ooh ader, Erionee," Ron called, spraying eggs in his sister's face as she appeared behind him.

In her hurry out of the Great Hall, she didn't hear Ginny's exclamation of how gross Ron was, or his apology that was equally incomprehensible, or Ginny's scoff that followed, or Harry's cheery greeting to the redheaded girl, or the remark of a nameless Gryffindor about people not bothering to have their robes properly fitted.

Oh, or her Head of House calling her name.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The professor's direction took her to the fifth floor, down various corridors, and past a few empty classrooms. Although she had traveled the path the previous day, she had no memory of ever before being to this end of the castle. If she had taken a left rather than a right three turns back, she would have eventually found the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom during Professor Lockhart had used back in second year, but that was as close to this area she had ever ventured.

Along the way there, Hermione racked her mind in an effort to construct a preliminary outline of what she thought her schedule might look like, in addition to trying to squeeze out any memories of the previous day. She had been trying to force herself to remember ever since waking up that morning.

Suddenly, she found herself facing the portrait of an old, smiling man, who greeted her by name. Well, by a name.

"Ah, Miss Gritel, was it? Forget your bag when you left this morning, did you? Well, it's only to be expected, many conscious people have horrid memories, one can't really think that the unconscious will be any better!"

"Actually, it's Granger," Hermione corrected politely, unable to be mad at the fellow for some reason. Perhaps it was the smile he wore, or that happy look in his eyes. She watched with a grin as he snapped his fingers and brought his hand down to hit his thigh.

"Granger! Don't you worry, miss, I'll get it down soon enough." His grin widened as he assured her, "There hasn't been a pair of Heads I've watched over yet whose names and personalities I haven't managed to memorize."

"I'm sure you will," she agreed, returning his smile.

"Now, down to business. We can't sit here chatting all day! Well, I could, but that wouldn't get you very far, now would it? Password?"

Hermione's smile faded at once.

She didn't know the password.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Finally changed into a new set of robes, Draco had quickly washed and eaten a simple breakfast so that he could gather his school supplies and head off to class on time. Usually he wouldn't care so much, but since he seemed to have caught the Headmaster's attention already by apparently not going to the meeting on the train (was it really fair that he be punished for something he didn't remember doing? Perhaps he had a very good excuse. It was a possibility!), he decided that being late on the first day of class simply had to be marked off his list this time.

Swinging his bag onto his shoulder, he was just about to reach the portrait when he realized that he would not know where to go. Somehow, the professors forgot to provide portable copies of their schedule, of course, so he would have to write it down. Once he found a quill, he rummaged through his bag for a spare piece of parchment for a moment before giving up. The ink would wash off soon enough.

Shoving his sleeve up to his elbow, Draco started to furiously record the chart on his arm, grimacing when he scraped his skin a time or two. Although hardly his neatest handwriting, the words were somewhat legible and therefore acceptable. Stuffing his quill back into his bag, he held his sleeve up to let the ink air-dry as he pushed his shoulder against the portrait.

A series of loud noises echoed through the hall as the bodies of the Head Girl and Head Boy crashed into each other. Draco's arms flew out to catch himself, his sleeve sliding loose, left arm clashing into Hermione's side as his right hand landed on her face, managing to force her to finish her journey to the floor that had been previously halted by her elbows, which in turn caused her legs to bend in an effort to keep some kind of balance, making her knees just collide with Draco's manly bits, collapsing the poor boy and stealing his arms out from under him as he reached for his damaged goods, leading to his entire body falling intimately on top of Hermione's, pressing the breath out of her completely.

Seeing the bundled mess of Head Girl and Head Boy and hearing their respective wheezing and moaning, Francis Thokering declared, "Oh my stars!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Like I said, this story is completely random and not planned at all! So I had to wait until I got inspiration to continue this story. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

"_What the hell, Granger?!" _Malfoy groaned, still holding himself and wishing away the pain.

"Get off of me!" she responded, still huffing and puffing in an effort to catch her breath. In an awkward couple of seconds, Hermione tried to wiggle around to get out from under him without placing herself into any further uncomfortable situations. Disgusted to find that Malfoy's head rested partially on her breasts now, she roughly pushed him away onto the hard ground next to her. Taking a few breaths before rising, she shot Malfoy a glare of contempt.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" she reprimanded.

"Me?" the boy shot back, standing up to face her. "You were the one that stood right in front of the portrait like some mindless dolt."

"I was going to go inside, nitwit," she rebutted.

"Aren't you supposed to be seeing Madam Pomfrey, oh smart one who knocked herself out on a stationary table?" he snarled, picking up his bag.

"Already did, oh brilliant one," she snapped back. When she noticed the black smears on his arm, she added, "What the hell is on your arm, Malfoy?"

Looking down to where her eyes pointed, the Slytherin swore loudly when he saw the remains of his schedule, smudged during the fiasco in front of the portrait. "My schedule, you daft bint! Look what you did!"

Instead of protesting her innocence in his screwing up of his own schedule (which seemed to be sloppily written in the first place) as she normally would have, the reminder of soon-starting classes clicked back on a switch in her brain.

"Stay here!" she commanded, fleeing into their common room. With absolutely no time to admire the room décor, she immediately starting searching for her trunk, finding it hidden in the bathroom. As she wondered whose brilliant idea such an absurd location for a trunk was, she shed Madam Pomfrey's extra robe and the mysterious blue nightgown and slipped into her own set of school robes. Packing her school bag in a whirlwind of chaos, her hair flew wildly around her as she practically torn the common room apart to find her wand. When she finally held the precious piece of wood in her hand (as luck would have it, the darn thing had somehow gotten in between one of the couches and an armchair), she quickly scanned the bulletin board, trying to simply absorb the schedule she would have to remember for the rest of the day.

But for the same reason everything else was going wrong (the universe obviously was simply against her having a good day), her brain wouldn't function properly. Too stressed to calm down, relax, and allow her mind to return to normal speed and thereby retain the information better, she knew there was no time for her to copy down everything and still make it to her first period on time.

Hoping the git hadn't gotten too far away, she prayed that Malfoy's smudged version was accurate enough to get them through at least the morning's classes.

"I can't believe I have to rely on _Malfoy_," she muttered as she reached the portrait hole. What had the world come to?

* * *

Although the Head Girl had retreated to their common room before he could respond to her demand, he still shouted out loud, "You can't tell me what to do, Granger!"

"Doubt she heard you," the annoying man in the portrait commented.

"Shut up!" Draco retorted, swinging his bag over his shoulder. With an irritated scoff, he stormed down the corridor, not halting for a second when a voice called out his name just as he reached end of the hall.

"Malfoy!" the annoying a Head Girl shouted again, frustration and anger clearly present in her tone. Francis flinched as she slammed his portrait shut with a bang. "I swear I'll hex you into next year if you don't let me follow you to class! I'm _not _going to be late!"

"Please toss me into next year. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your conceited, self-righteous self," he replied in a snark, disappearing around the corner with an absolute disregard for her plea for him to slow down.

"I'm not the conceited one around here!" Granger protested as she ran in Draco's footsteps in an effort to catch up with him, the sounds of their continued arguing vibrating off the walls.

"What a pair," remarked Francis, shaking his head repeatedly, broad smile on his face. Only a single day had passed, but already he knew that this would be quite the entertaining year.

* * *

"Get your hair away from me!" Malfoy demanded in disgust, yanking his arm out of Hermione's reach.

"I'm just trying to read your horrible handwriting!" she shot back, throwing the mentioned hair behind her shoulder in a vain attempt to get it out of the way.

"It was perfectly legible until _you _went and smudged it all up," he responded with the same glare that had captured his face all morning. Her similar facial expression transformed into a look of disbelief.

"Sure, whatever," she replied, just wanting to get to her class. "Can you just read it already?"

"It's not like I'm not trying, Granger," Malfoy assured her as he studied his arm. "Can't you remember anything from off the board?"

"You're the one that wrote down the information! Your brain had the chance to retain it better," she retorted. Then, as she reflected back to her conversation with the Headmaster this morning, a thought hit her brain.

"Does that say Arithmancy?" she asked, peering at his arm once more. With his eagerness to discover if she was right, he ignored her close proximity and looked again at the ink on his skin.

"I think so," he agreed. (In the interest of not losing his position the first day of classes by not getting to class in the next six minutes, he ignored the fact that he was actually agreeing with the witch beside him.) "The Advanced Arithmancy classroom should be the same as last year, surely?"

"It should be," she concurred, swiftly spinning in the direction of the classroom and walking at a quick pace.

"Oh, hurry up, Granger!" Malfoy called as he sprinted past her, tossing her a smirk on his way.

After a few minutes of brisk walking, Hermione decided that lightly jogging would most likely help her mission. Sure enough, thirty seconds before the hour struck, she came through he door, hair flaying haphazardly around her head, skin tinted pink from physical exertion, breaths coming slightly faster and more shallow than normal. Nevertheless, she sent a smile to the professor and gathered her materials from her bag with ten seconds to spare. Just as she was straightening her spare piece of parchment she always brought for first day of class notes, Malfoy strolled through the door casually, characteristic smug expression plastered on his completely pale face. No one in the classroom would have guessed he had to book his arse to arrive on time. But Hermione knew, and the knowledge brought a scowl to her face.

But again, as soon as the professor started talking, she ushered away all thoughts on her terrible morning and anything at all related to Malfoy to focus completely on the lesson.

* * *

Unlike during their first few years at Hogwarts, Professor Vector jumped directly into new material on the first day of instruction. Like she told a concerned student last year, she strongly believed that review was the pupil's responsibility, even over summer break. With this new stream of information, Draco found himself rather occupied with his notes and not dwelling on the horrors of having to be Head Boy with Granger, having to share a common room with Granger, having to run meetings with Granger, having every class with Granger, or the strange incident he had found himself in this morning which seemed to revolve around Granger.

But when the end of class came, these thoughts and more on the obnoxiousness of the latest Head Girl came flurrying back into his brain with a vengeance when her bushy head of hair and pestering questions appeared at his desk.

"What class do we have next, Malfoy?" she demanded impatiently. "Have you managed to read that horrendous writing of yours yet?"

"I was a bit preoccupied actually paying attention in class, Granger," he retorted with a sneer.

"Figures you would choose today of all days…" she moaned to herself. He rolled his eyes at her antics and turned to put his quill and notes away.

"Fine," he muttered, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at it. When she leaned forward to study it also, he pulled back and sent her a piercing glance. She muttered under her breath but gave him a bit more space.

"Looks like Double Charms," he announced after a moment. Immediately, Granger swung her bag more firmly upon her shoulder and left the room. Thanking whoever was listening for a bit of peace and quiet, he picked up his own bag and headed out the door to find someone interesting to talk to and walk to Charms with. After a couple of minutes of walking, he spotted Blaise walking alongside Tracey.

"Where were you this morning?" Blaise inquired after he greeted the two of them.

"I had a crazy day," Draco responded darkly. "I don't even remember yesterday."

"What? How? Why?" Tracey questioned.

"That's ridiculous," Blaise proclaimed. "You didn't do anything to flush away a whole day, did you?"

"Well, I wouldn't rightly know, now would I?" Draco replied.

"Was it Hermione Granger?" Tracey asked. "She's Head Girl and all. Maybe you got into a fight…"

"Imagine that," Blaise muttered softly.

"… and she cast some spell. She seems nice, but she _does _know a lot of magic. Besides, the two of you never really got along," Tracey finished. Blaise scoffed at the extreme understatement.

"Which is one reason this morning and the rest of this year is going to be hell," Draco exclaimed. "The know-it-all is impossible to be around for extended periods of time. I actually have to share a living space with her for all of September!"

"Don't you share a Common Room for the entire year?" Tracey questioned.

"Yeah, but we have to sleep on these ridiculous couch-beds in the Common Room and don't get individual bedrooms until October," Draco explained.

"That's a hoot!" Blaise declared. "Oh, Dumbledore better plan on redecorating at the end of the month!"

"It won't be necessary," Draco assured him glumly.

"Oh, really?" Blaise asked in disbelief. "I don't buy that for a second."

"There are wards barring magic within the Head quarters. One more layer to the mystery of the missing memories. Between that and the fact that Granger doesn't remember anything either, I have no idea what to think," Draco admitted.

"Wow, neither of you remember any of yesterday?" Blaise repeated in amazement. "Maybe you both got incredibly sloshed to deal with being forced in the same space."

Draco laughed sharply. "Granger? Drink? That'll be the day! Besides, no hangover symptoms."

"Quite the predicament you have there," Tracey summarized.

"Yes, it is," Draco agreed. "You both headed to Charms?"

When they confirmed that they were also headed to Flitwick's class, the three of them continued walking on their way to the classroom as Blaise and Tracey (and later Theodore and Pansy when they arrived) filled Draco in on the prior day's events to the best of their ability.

* * *

"I swear, this year is going to drive me around the bend," Hermione proclaimed as she sat down in her seat beside Harry.

"And here I was thinking you already vacation to the spot regularly. Don't we get monthly reports, Harry?" Ron asked teasingly as he sat on the other side of his best friend.

"Oh, lay off, Ronald," Hermione chided. "I'm serious this time. Malfoy is being a complete git."

"Not just half a git, then?" Harry questioned with a broad grin, sending all three of the Gryffindors into laughter.

"I have a feeling I'll be spending even more time than usual in the library this year," Hermione confided.

"Hasn't Madam Pince set you up a cot yet?" Ron teased. "Or at least reserved you an armchair suitable for sleeping?"

"Well, you're still allowed to spend time in the Gryffindor Common Room, aren't you?" Harry inquired, ignoring the barb Ron had just thrown. After all, it was an old one.

"Of course," Hermione replied. "I'm just not sure how much time I'll have, with such a busy schedule and all. You seriously should see the board in our room. It's packed full without even considering studying or free time!"

"Free time?" Ron gasped. "Hermione Granger desires free time? As in a set of hours set aside simply to do nothing at all and be totally unproductive?"

"I never said that," Hermione corrected, rolling her eyes as Harry grinned. "I count free time as time for socializing and going to Hogsmead and the like."

"That does sound awful," Ron admitted.

"We'll hardly be seeing you," Harry noted.

"Oh, nonsense," Hermione replied with a wave of her hand. "I'll always make time for the two of you. Heaven knows why."

"Settle down, class! Settle down!" Professor Flitwick called from atop his pile of books. Almost at once, the room quieted. "Today we will be starting with a review of Coding Charms."

Half an hour later, the students had been assigned to practice a few new incantations. As the repetitive sound echoed throughout the room, everyone began conversing again as well.

"So what do you have next, Hermione?" Harry asked conversationally after he and Ron had reported the remainder of their schedules for the day.

"Unfortunately, I have no idea," she admitted.

"What?" Ron asked harshly, extremely confused. "How could you not know?"

"Well, remember how I was so late this morning?" she questioned, getting two nods in response. "I had to change and pack my stuff, so I didn't have time to copy down my schedule."

"So how do you know what classes to go to?" Harry inquired curiously.

"I have to use _Malfoy_," Hermione complained. "He scribbled down the schedule on his arm, but the ink is all blurred, so it's all but illegible."

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed. "That sucks."

"Yes, it is a pain," Hermione agreed. "But I hope to be able to go back to the Common Room during lunch to copy down the rest of it for myself."

"So only two more classes being weighed down by the pale blondie?" Ron summarized.

"That's the plan anyway," Hermione assured them hoping with all her might that it would work out. She really did not want to waste all day waiting for Malfoy to read his own writing.

* * *

Not sixty seconds after Flitwick had released them from class, Granger had appeared by Draco's side, demanding for him to tell her what class they had next.

"Why don't you chat with Potter and Weasley for a while, Granger? Go be social like a normal person," he spat in return, annoyed at being interrupted while he was with his friends. "I need to have some time with my friends so I don't explode from Gryffindor overdose."

"As appealing it sounds for your viscera to be spread across the walls, you're my guide to my next class, so I need you in tact," she admitted grudgingly. "But can't you just tell me now so you don't have to worry about it later?"

"Granger, I'm the one that wrote down the schedule, so I'm not going to be worrying at all," he pointed out, smirk smug on his face. With this, he turned back around to address Blaise once again.

"What's this about a schedule?" he asked, clearly amused by the situation at hand. In response, Draco pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the messy tangle of black ink that somehow could be interpreted as the Head's schedule for the day. At the site, Blaise and Theo howled with laughter.

"You are such an irritating, arrogant arse!" they heard Granger exclaimed through the laughter, widening Draco's smirk and deepening the amusement of Theo and Blaise. In frustration, she stormed away back to Potter and Weasel-brain, hair following in a flurry of fuzz.

"Oh, this year is going to be good," Theo decided, grin pasted on his face.

"Definitely," Blaise agreed, already looking forward to the stories his friend would undoubtedly be telling in the coming months.

"For you uninvolved observers," Draco corrected dryly.

"Exactly," Theo exclaimed, grinning.

"So what do you have next, Draco?" Blaise inquired curiously. All three of the boys turned their attention to the markings on Draco's arm, trying to decipher the black blobs.

"Did you abbreviate?" Theo asked, wondering why the word next to what seemed to say 11 o'clock was so short.

"Should have," Draco answered, frowning at his handwriting.

"Maybe it's a free period," Theo suggested. "Looks kind of like _free_."

"Yeah, it does," Blaise agreed. Now that the thought was in Draco's brain, he seemed to remember liking having a break before lunch.

"I think that's it," he declared, pulling his sleeve back down to hide the markings.

"You gonna tell Granger?" Theo inquired with a mischievious smile.

"Maybe I should let her stew for a while," Draco remarked, smirking at the sight of a distraught Head Girl frantically complaining to her friends. He would bet his broomstick it was about him.

"Wouldn't it be just hilarious if you disappeared until the next class would start and she panicked when she couldn't find you?" Blaise commented, on the verge of laughing again. "What do you think she'd do?"

"Die," Draco answered immediately, cracking up at the mental image of a desperate Granger searching all the classrooms for him.

* * *

"Where _is _he?!" Hermione exclaimed urgently, exiting the greenhouses where Ron and Harry remained and heading back to the castle. At the end of Charms, Malfoy had suddenly disappeared, leaving her with absolutely no idea where she was supposed to be by 11 o'clock. In desperation, she had gone along with Harry and Ron and the other 7th year Gryffindors to Advanced Herbology, hoping that Malfoy would be there.

Unfortunately, that wasn't their class. Sprout informed Hermione that she wasn't due to be in her classroom until after lunch.

Distressed and very much in a hurry, since it was already five past the hour, Hermione burst through the door of the castle only to find one smug, grinning, pain of the universe Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall, looking right at the doors as if waiting for her to come inside.

"_You!_ Where have you been?" she demanded, glaring heatedly at him as she approached. "Class started five minutes ago!"

"Relax, Granger. Merlin, when are you having that surgery to remove that tree trunk from your arse? Could you make it any sooner?"

"I don't have time for this nonsense," she declared, grabbing his left arm and shoving up the sleeve.

"Hey!" he protested darkly, roughly pulling his arm out of her grasp. "You don't get to touch me."

"Like I'd do so if it wasn't absolutely necessary," she shot back, returning the daggers he was delivering through his gaze.

"It's not," he answered snottily.

"Maybe not for you, but I would like to get to class today," she responded tersely.

"We don't have class this period, Granger," he told her, smirking once again as he tilted his head to the side for a brief moment.

"What?" she inquired, confused.

"No class," he repeated. "Free period."

"I don't believe you," she proclaimed. "Let me see."

"Fine," he responded, thrusting out his arm and pulling back his sleeve to give her a view of the distorted schedule written on his skin. After only a second or two, Granger shrieked loudly and grabbed at his arm again.

"Hey! I said no touching!" he yelled. "What's the matter with you, Granger?!"

"Our free period is at _12_, you idiot!" she shouted. "We have _Transfiguration_ right now!"

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, bringing his arm closer to himself so he could take another look. Sure enough, the spot where he and Theo and Blaise had been looking earlier was not directly below Charms, but after another class: Transfiguration.

"McGonagall's going to kill us!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Not not not mine. Because it's not not JKR's. And she doesn't exactly want to share with me, though I'm totally all for that idea.**

**A/N: So, here comes another chapter of this crazy piece! Like I've said before, I have absolutely no idea where this one is headed. Nothing is planned out. It's fun to write though. So if any of you have comments, ideas, things you want to see, tell me in a review! I love to hear from you!**

**Additionally, if you liked my writing, why don't you go on over to my profile and vote on what multichapter Dramione story you think I should write next! All voters receive hugs and virtual cookies! Chocolate chip, of course. **

* * *

"I can't believe you didn't notice _Transfiguration _was below _Charms_!" Hermione shrieked as they flew up the stairs.

"Shut up and run, Granger!" Malfoy retorted, some color actually appearing in his face. Although she would to like to think that he was a bit ashamed or even embarrassed about messing up so badly, she doubted it. The red tint to his skin was probably nothing more than the affect of the physical exertion of sprinting around the castle.

"Seriously, Malfoy, _you _wrote down the schedule yourself!" she declared as her breaths grew heavier, readjusting the strap on her shoulder to accommodate the weight.

"On second thought, I don't care if you make it to class. Why don't you walk at a snail's pace and leave me alone?" the blond boy spat.

"In your own handwriting!" the know-it-all continued, ignoring her classmate's last statement. "Is it really that messy, or are you just the world's biggest idiot?"

"Hey, you're the one that slammed into me and smeared the ink! I could have read it perfectly fine if it wasn't for you, so this is really _your _fault," he retorted, face getting even more red, probably due to a mix of anger and embarrassment.

"Don't blame your horrid handwriting on me, Malfoy," Hermione replied coolly, narrowing her eyes.

"My handwriting is not horrid," he contended haughtily. "I _happen _to have the neatest penmanship of my family."

"Mummy and daddy having messier writing does not yours neat make," Hermione responded, tilting her head as she shot him a smirk.

"'Does not yours neat make'?" Malfoy repeated with an amused tone, a scoff escaping from the grin plastered on his face. "What century do you think we live in, Granger?"

"Whatever, Malfoy," Hermione snapped, a bit embarrassed that she had reworded her sentence so grammatically backwards in the Slytherin's presence. She sounded like Yoda or something. Thank Merlin she could blame the heat in her cheeks on running through the corridors. "You're the one stuck on the idea of blood supremacy; what century do _you _think we live in?"

"The fact that the idea of blood supremacy has endured throughout history only proves that the thought has foundation," Malfoy remarked arrogantly.

"I can't believe you seriously believe that!" Hermione cried out with indignation.

"I don't care what you believe, Granger. For all I know, you believe in that foolish Muggle idea that people live a thousand lives over and over again," the Slytherin retorted, scoffing loudly as he rolled his eyes.

"Malfoy! Some people actually believe in reincarnation," she exclaimed defensively. "Just because you don't share someone's religious beliefs doesn't mean you can go about insulting them."

"So you do believe in this endless cycle?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, no, but I'm a Christian, not that it's any of your business whatsoever," she remarked scathingly.

"Shame," Malfoy commented lightly, sending her a smirk. "Another reason to call you a moron would have come in handy."

"Though you almost have me wishing I did," Hermione ground out, glaring at him. "I'm sure your karma would result you becoming a stink beetle in the next life."

She returned his smirk with one that held a bit more self-satisfaction, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she suggested, "Or maybe a ferret."

Immediately Malfoy's expression flattened, already thin lips pressing together tightly. Instead of spitting out a response, however, he merely ran faster, sprinting ahead of the Head Girl.

Fortunately, the Transfiguration classroom was then just around the bend, meaning that Hermione reached the door only a second after her male partner. When both of them burst through the doors, the entire Advanced Transfiguration class of Slytherins and Ravenclaws spun around to face them, huffing and puffing and red-faced and disheveled as they were. Hermione's gaze sought out those of her Head of House at once, shame and embarrassment increasing exponentially at the disappointment and annoyance in the Professor's eyes.

"Sit down," McGonagall commanded, not wanting any more time to be wasted by the interruption. Bowing their heads, the two Heads quickly moved towards empty seats. Hermione slipped into the closest available desk, leaving Malfoy to steal a few rows over to get as far away from her as he dared while McGonagall watched. Why were there never any empty chairs in the back of the classroom?

Since the professor resumed her lecture before Hermione had even sat down, the Gryffindor had to hurriedly dig around in her bag to find some parchment, ink, and a quill. Once doing so, she sneaked a look over at Su Li's notes to copy down what she had missed. Although Hermione was sure the nice, quiet girl would have handed over the parchment to allow her a better view, the studious bookworm didn't want to chance causing any more of a problem by making any sort of noise other than the tell-tale scratching of her quill against the paper.

Soon enough, Hermione had caught up to what McGonagall was currently discussing, even though her writing was a bit cramped and messier than usual due to her rush. Nevertheless, she managed to calm down a bit as the class continued, letting her anger towards Malfoy partially melt away. But only partially. When the Transfiguration teacher called for the students to begin practicing a few of the spells they had been learning about, she also called both of the Heads' names and sternly informed them that they would be speaking with her after class. Embarrassment and that touch of anger towards her Slytherin counterpart and his despicable idiocy flared up within the Gryffindor again as she nodded her head before pulling out her wand to practice the spell.

* * *

After a quiet and boring class of Transfiguration, Draco made his way up to Professor McGonagall's desk as the other students scurried out.

"Guess you didn't have a free period after all," Blaise remarked with an amused smirk as he passed.

"Obviously," Draco grumbled, fighting the desire to smack that expression off his friend's face. It wasn't funny.

"Was Granger pissed?" Theo asked with a wide grin, eyes sparkling.

"Oh, yeah," Draco answered with a smirk of his own. Okay, maybe it was a little funny.

"Sucks about McGonagall though," Blaise commented, gesturing his head towards the front of the classroom, where said professor stood waiting.

"Seriously," Draco agreed glumly. "Speaking of, I got to go."

"You going to lunch afterwards?" Theo inquired, lingering a bit longer. So that's what that free period was meant to be! Draco would bet that they didn't have 'lunch' time like everyone else; they probably had to eat whenever they had that deceivingly labeled free time. Great. Just another fabulous discovery to add to his list today.

"Maybe," Draco replied honestly. "I really should go back to the Heads' place and copy my schedule onto some parchment."

"All right. We'll see you around then," Theo said as he and Blaise turned around to leave.

"Sounds good," Draco mumbled to himself, continuing the walk towards the waiting Professor and Head Girl, neither which looked especially pleased with him at the moment.

"Would either of you care to offer an explanation to why you were both tardy and disrupted my class today?" McGonagall demanded sternly, piercing stone eyes making Draco a bit fidgety.

"We…" Granger paused, shooting Draco an expectant look, like she wanted him to admit their late arrival was all his fault. Which, truthfully, it kind of was. However, Draco certainly felt no inclination to offer any sort of explanation at all, much less one incriminating himself. Sending her a blank stare until she realized this as well, he merely smirked when she huffed and glared at him darkly.

"We had to resolve an issue between two students that were fighting in the halls between classes," Granger responded with a firm voice, sending Draco's eyebrow up to meet his hairline. Whatever he might have expected the bookworm to say to their professor, _that _certainly wasn't it. He didn't even know the goodie-two-shoes was capable of lying. Though technically, she was only half-lying; _they _were two students and _they _had been fighting in the halls between classes.

"By any chance were these two students the two of you?" Professor McGonagall inquired with a knowing look. Immediately, Granger flushed deeply, tucking her head low towards her chest. Taking that for the answer she expected, their teacher pressed her lips into a thin line.

"I see. And since you both have yet to work together as the Heads you are supposed to be, I will see you both every evening this week for detention from eight until your scheduled rounds," she declared. Then, quieter, she added, "I am very disappointed in both of you. This sort of thing better not happen again."

"Yes, Professor, we understand," Granger assured her Head of House, face red from embarrassment, shame, and probably a touch of anger still steaming towards Draco, no doubt. On his part, Draco merely nodded his head once, not really caring about detention, but not wanting to lose his position as Head Boy.

"Good," McGonagall replied. After giving them both one last hard glance, she turned around, signaling their dismissal. Immediately, they both retreated from the classroom. Once Draco noticed that they were walking side by side, he sneered in her direction before quickly speeding up. Although he debated heading to the Great Hall for lunch, Draco knew that if he wanted to remain Head Boy, he couldn't afford to miss any more class periods on the first day.

Unfortunately, the echoing sounds of footprints ever behind him never let him forget that a certain annoying Head Girl would be headed in the same direction to copy down a set of their schedule as well.

Ugh. Draco shivered in disgust that they had a _their _anything. Stupid know-it-all. Was that paradoxical? A stupid know-it-all? Well, Granger sure classified as one, so they had to exist.

Finally, Draco reached the portrait of the Francis Thokering, who apparently had a guest over. An unfamiliar man sat next to Francis in the painting, laughing alongside his friend merrily. Rolling his eyes, Draco paused in front of the two drinking men and waited for them to notice his presence.

"Ah! Mr. Malfoy!" Thokering greeted cheerfully, spilling whatever liquid his goblet contained on his right shoulder as he gestured dramatically. "Are classes over already?"

"No, but we have a break right now," Draco answered. Right at that moment, the Head Girl herself rounded the corner, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder and wincing and the weight of it.

"Oh, thank goodness," she muttered as she approached.

"Afternoon, Miss Grater!" Thokering greeted with another drink-spilling gesture.

"It's Granger," Granger corrected politely, sending the painted man a strained smile.

"Granger! Fudge bananas. Yes, I will remember that. Granger, Granger, Granger," Thokering repeated aloud, tilting his head up as if that would help his memory. Already annoyed with having to return to the Common Room at all, Draco scoffed in irritation at the echoing of the Head Girl's name.

"Gillyweed," he said quickly, hoping to cut off any beginning to any conversation this painted man wanted to have with them. This Thokering fellow was awfully annoying, Draco decided. It was certainly going to be a long year.

"Ah, yes. That is the password," Thokering replied, nodding to his companion as he opened up and allowed them passage. Not even looking at Granger, Draco went through first, anxious to copy down his schedule and maybe scrub away the ink stains marring his arm.

Sighing heavily, Draco dropped his bag on the closest couch, tempted to fall down next to it and sleep away the afternoon. What a day it had been already. Scowling at the fact that he still had classes to attend, he rubbed his eyes once and then rummaged through his things to find a piece of parchment.

"Oh, Merlin," he heard his Gryffindor counterpart murmured wearily from the portrait hole before making her way over to the other couch.

"Oh," she repeated a second later in a more upbeat, pleasantly surprised tone.

"That all you can say Granger?" he drawled, noting that she had echoed that word three times in the past minute.

"No," she retorted, sending him a glare he barely caught as he glanced over to look at her for a fraction of a moment. "I was just admiring the room."

"Didn't you see it this morning?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Then, as if he had just remembered, he smirked at her and answered his own question. "Never mind; you went and knocked yourself out like the brilliant idiot you are."

"Well excuse me if I wasn't expecting the sight of Draco Malfoy sleeping next to me," she spat in return. At once, a smirk made its way across Draco's face before he let out a barking laugh.

"You fainted at the sight of me?" he asked with great amusement. "I never thought I would see the day… I know I'm good-looking, Granger, but there's no need to get lightheaded." He leaned forward as if sharing a secret, his eyes turning dark and cruel. "Things just wouldn't work out between us."

"Oh, as if!" Granger exclaimed, pushing away from the couch to stand up. As she stormed over to their schedule, Draco chuckled to himself, amused at how easy the Gryffindor was to rile up.

* * *

Quiet mutterings escaped from Hermione's mouth as she fought to focus, struggling to repress the anger she felt towards that stupid, annoying prat standing just a few meters away. How dare he make such rude comments towards her. Like she would _ever_… Even the very idea of what he was suggesting made her want to vomit. Aggressively.

Channeling those emotions towards something useful, Hermione took out her quill and a bit of parchment and started furiously scribbling down her schedule for the remainder of the day. Later, after her afternoon classes, she could copy down the schedule for the entire week, but for now she simply wanted to figure out where she had to be for the rest of the day and get out of there.

And get away from… _him_.

Returning her eyes to the board, Hermione felt another stab of disappointment and embarrassment as her gaze drifted down to the eight o'clock slot. She wondered if the board would know that they had received detention or if they would have to write that in and rearrange everything themselves. As of yet, the schedule reported that they would be meeting with the prefects from seven-thirty to eight-thirty.

Oh, _joy_. They would somehow have to reschedule that. Or maybe they could get away with cutting the meeting short.

Comparing the information on her piece of parchment against the board one last time, Hermione was satisfied that she had correctly copied the chart. Shoving her quill and the parchment containing her day's schedule back into her bag, she scanned the room for a clock. Relief swept through her as she realized that she could probably hurry down to the Great Hall and still meet Harry and Ron for a short lunch before Herbology.

Swiftly turning around, Hermione found Malfoy directly in the path between her body and the door, scribbling down his own copy of the schedule. Scowling in disgust, her eyes swiftly swept down his body before her brain could stop them. Then she shook her head and stormed past him.

"Like what you see, Granger?" That slow drawl of his rubbed against her in every wrong way. Tossing her head to the side to look over her shoulder, she shot him a piercing glare. Suddenly an idea sneaked into her head.

Slowly this time, she let her gaze drift down his form again, making sure to take her sweet time and lingering every so often. When she brought her eyes back to his, she was pleased with the shocked expression on his face.

"Meh." She shrugged her shoulders idly, twisting her features into an unimpressed half-frown.

Then she turned back around and left the Common Room wearing a wide grin. She bid goodbye to Francis Thokering with a wave, even more pleased when he pronounced her name correctly. Glancing down at her watch, she saw that she still could catch lunch with Ron and Harry if she hurried.

Although short, Hermione was glad that she had decided to run fast and dine with her two best friends; despite the fact that she had seen them only an hour or so beforehand. From what Dumbledore had told her early that morning and the extremely packed schedule in her Common Room, she was guessing that her Head Girl responsibilities would severely limit her time with them.

"So what do you have now?" Harry asked as the three stood up and gathered their bags. "Ron and I have Transfiguration."

"Herbology, which I know you already had."

Ron swore, earning a stern glare from Hermione. Ignoring her, he slung his bag over his shoulder and whined, "Don't we have any classes together this year?"

"Do you have double DADA after McGonagall?" Hermione asked. The boys nodded and she smiled, releasing a small breath of relief. "Me too."

"Hopefully this new teacher will be better than the previous ones," Harry remarked, rolling his eyes at the memories of the horrid streak that position seemed to have.

"Think she'll be as strict as McGonagall?" Ron asked with disappointment marring his face. "She certainly _looks _like a younger copy."

"She?" Hermione repeated with interest.

"Oh, yeah, forgot you forgot," Ron replied, grinning cheekily at his bushy-haired best friend. "Got a female DADA teacher this year. First time."

"Umbridge was a female," Hermione pointed out.

"Umbridge was a toad," Ron correctly matter of factly. Harry released a bark of laughter before nodding earnestly.

"She was!" he agreed loudly.

"Oh, be nice, you two!" Hermione admonished. Then she twisted her head to the side, away from the two boys, and let the smile that was threatening to turn into its own laugh appear on her face.

"You know it's true, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed.

"Still!" Hermione replied, successfully burying her amusement in the interest of controlling those two. "She was our teacher…"

But for the remainder of the time they had together before parting ways, Hermione dropped the subject, partially because she didn't feel like standing up for the toad anyway.

* * *

Fuming after Granger's casual dismissal of him, Draco forcefully shoved the rest of his things in his bag before storming over to the large tapestry of the Hogwarts crest on the opposite side of the room. He didn't want to have to go down to the Great Hall, so this unusual little room was going to have to do.

Sweeping aside the fabric, he hadn't expected much. And size-wise, the room was relatively small, with only a small, wooden table big enough for two with the matching chairs tucked in, a stark white counter with two wooden stools with a small, wooden cupboard above it, and a strange sort of white box the Slytherin recognized as an ice box. But to Draco's surprise, resting upon that simple counter were three heaping plates of the food he had been silently craving over the past thirty minutes, accompanied by a large goblet filled to the brim with Pumpkin Juice.

Pleased, he shrugged and sat down, ready to enjoy a nice meal by himself before having to deal with three more hours of class, what was probably going to be a horrid meeting with all of the prefects in the middle of dinner, and what was almost certainly going to be a terrible two hours of detention with McGonagall and Granger.

Oh, and topped all off with three long hours of torturous rounds with no one but the insufferable know-it-all.

First day of the year and the Head Girl a bigger pain in his side than she had been in all six years before.

What fun.


End file.
